


Call Out My Name

by Camelittle



Series: Convalescence [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Holding Hands, Hope, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Wistful, self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time it's Merlin who needs someone, and it's Arthur that he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Out My Name

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Holding Hands" square on my [Merlin Writers Quickie Bingo](http://merlin-writers.livejournal.com/161477.html) card.
> 
> The title is from James Taylor's "You've got a friend."
> 
> With thanks to Sophh for steering me down the right path.

Arthur turned the whisky tumbler round and stared into its depths, as if an answer to his predicament could be sought there. The thunderstorm that had been threatening all day was now reaching its zenith; he hoped his staff had all managed to get home before the worst of the rain.

  
He winced when a particularly loud thunderclap made the windows rattle and the lights flicker. A few minutes later, they winked out altogether. Cursing, he fumbled his way to the mantlepiece where he knew that Gwen had left a tealight in a cup-holder, and lit it as another flash flooded the room and was gone just as quickly. The candle guttered; he’d left the window open, to let out some of the stifling heat. Striding back to it, he rammed it shut, just ahead of a flurry of battering hailstones.

It was a night for portentous signs and dread deeds. It wasn’t a night to be out, which was why he was surprised when, a few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Frowning, Arthur walked out into the hall, still carrying his tea-light, and threw open the door, gazing, blinking, out into the ink-black night. A sorry, bedraggled figure stood there. Arthur should have been surprised, but it seemed somehow inevitable, given his earlier musings. As if fate, having decided that tonight was the night that he had to act, or all would be lost, had then hired an entire orchestra of meteorological melodramatics just to punctuate the show.

“Merlin?” Arthur hadn't seen him for a few days; he hadn’t pressed for information, because he knew Merlin had been caring for a terminally ill child. “You’d better come in. You’re drenched!”

“I lost her.” Merlin’s voice was bald, matter-of fact.

“You’re a nurse, not a miracle worker. Idiot.” Tutting to hide his concern, Arthur stepped out and dragged Merlin, unresisting, up the steps into the house, the torrential rain soaking through his own shirt in just a few seconds.

Merlin wasn’t even wearing a waterproof; his clothes were sodden, and he stood dripping on the parquet flooring in the hall, protesting about making a mess.

“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur said, hauling him into the kitchen, where he knew there were more candles and some clean laundry. “Have a towel, There are some dry clothes in here somewhere.”

In the end, all he could manage to find in the dim light from the candles was an old t-shirt and a pair of the jogging trousers he'd been wearing for physio. He turned his back politely while Merlin changed, and busied himself making tea on the gas stove while they waited for the electricity to come back on.

Finding a fleece blanket deep in the laundry basket, he tturned to drape it round Merlin’s shoulders, which were still shaking - and not, Arthur knew, because it was cold.

“Hey,” Arthur said gently, giving Merlin a few awkward slaps on the back.

“M’ not a horse,” said Merlin. “No need to pat my flanks.” This was clearly meant to be a joke, but Merlin’s wan grin that made him look even more like his heart was breaking.

Arthur sighed and sat, heavily, in front of Merlin, grabbing his hand instead. “No. No horse would be stupid enough to go out in that.” He nodded at the window. “Now, do you want to talk about it?”

Merlin looked down, and there was a long silence, which Arthur didn’t try to fill. Merlin took a sip of his tea. The room was so quiet that Arthur could hear him swallow.

“Look,” said Arthur, carefully. “I understand if you don’t want to say anything. But it might help. To tell someone who’s not involved. I just want you to know that it’s okay.”

Merlin still wasnt looking at him, but Arthur could see that his lips were pressed, hard, together, making them seem pale in the flickering candlelight. He waited, willing his face into a calm mask.

Finally,Merlin nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Thanks.” Although he’d dried himself, his face still looked wet and sleek in the candlelight. With a shock, Arthur realised that the dampness of his cheeks was nothing to do with the weather, and Merlin’s throat was working as if he was fighting some sort of inner battle. “I… I erm. I failed,” Merlin said at last, biting his lip. “I don’t know why I’m still doing this. She was so young, Arthur! So full of life! And I really thought she could beat it, her attitude was so positive, and she believed in herself, she thought she could do it… the cancer, but…” his voice trailed off and ended with what sounded suspiciously like a sob. “She was only ten. I just... I don't know why I'm doing this any more.”

Arthur gripped Merlin’s hand more tightly, “Hey,” he said again. “It’s okay.” He placed his other hand over the top of Merlin’s for emphasis. “Look. Look at me. Dammit Merlin, I’m on my feet and getting back in shape. All thanks to you. You’re not going to heal everyone, Merlin. I know it’s hard. But you have to accept that, in the job you’re in.”

“I know, I know.” But Merlin’s shoulders were still shaking, and one hand came up to brush at his eyes. “You know, I really thought I could make a difference. I love nursing… it’s amazing. Everyone’s got something wrong. Everyone, Arthur. Nobody is perfect. Those people you see walking down the street who are perfectly healthy looking on the outside; inside they have all got problems, all of them, are hurting-- whether it’s, I dunno, anemia, or… or… heart disease, or arthritis… or… or an eating disorder, or depression or… and I can help, I know I can!” His eyes shone in a more distant flash, and the retreating thunder grumbled out a dim counterpoint to his words. 

“And what about you, Merlin?” said Arthur, quietly. “What’s hurting you?”

Merlin’s face crumpled. “I can’t let go,” he said. “They all tell me that you learn to let go, but I can’t. I can’t stop caring. I can’t stop. I can’t distance myself. And I broke the cardinal rule.” He looked up at Arthur, holding his gaze. “I fell in love. With one of my patients. With you. I’m in love, with you, Arthur, so much that it hurts. I shouldn’t be, I shouldn’t, but I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending. I’m sorry.”

Arthur looked at his dear friend, his amazing friend, who cared so much that it made his heart hurt, and a great and desperate pity gnawed at him. Being in love wasn’t all about happiness and joy and rainbows. He knew that. Sometimes it meant taking risks and damning the consequences. He leant forward with a question on his lips. But then looked down at the table where their hands lay grasped together as if clinging on for dear life, and realised he had all the answers he needed at his fingertips.

“Hey,” Arthur said for a third time. “I wanted to wait for this. I wanted to wait until I was strong and unbroken, so that we could walk into this as equals. But now I realise… I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” Then he dipped forward, and pressed his lips to Merlin’s mouth, soft and careful for now, then dragged them down along Merlin’s chin to his neck, breathing in the thunderstorm that still lingered on his skin, feeling rather than hearing Merlin’s sharp intake of breath.

“I can’t wait any more. I need you now,” said Merlin, his voice small, burying his face in Arthur’s neck until Arthur could feel the heat of his breath raw against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you now,” said Arthur, his heart pounding.

Merlin’s arms grasped him tight. “God, Arthur. You feel so warm. I need you so much.“ One of Merlin’s hands detached itself from Arthur’s shoulders and roamed towards his belt buckle, making him gasp out loud. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

Reluctantly, Arthur peeled Merlin’s hand away “Look, Merlin, you’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I don’t want to take advan--”

“You won’t be taking advantage.” He could feel Merlin’s breath hitch. “This is what I want. Just… just hold me. Don’t let me go.”

"I want you to be sure." 

"I've never been surer. Please. Don't let me go," repeated Merlin.

“I won’t,” said Arthur. “I’ll never let you go. Not now.”

He stood, hauling Merlin to his feet, grateful for the strength that had returned to his arms and legs. Pulling Merlin in close so that he could feel every tremor that wracked Merlin’s wiry frame, Arthur felt his heart swell painfully, and he cursed his own stubbornness.

“Fuck, Merlin,” he said, feeling his own voice deepen and become gravelly as his throat tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He held him until the trembling faded and Merlin stood loose and relaxed, in his arms, and then he took him to his bed, where Merlin spread his limbs around Arthur and begged him in.

Arthur shed his stubbornness and his self-consciousness and all his qualms and scruples, instead succumbed to his all-consuming desire. Finding, to his joy, that it was returned enthusiastically.

And later there were more tears and more regrets.

But in the fresh, bright morning, when the sun stole through the open window to light upon Merlin’s pale skin, when Merlin’s clever fingers and lips traced all Arthur’s wounds and scars without wincing, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not my characters, I'm not getting paid.


End file.
